


Honeymoon

by phlight



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Everyone Is Gay, GDae, GTOP, I am Jiyong's ceaseless melodrama, M/M, Nyongtory, Sort Of, Taking the lord's name in vain, a little bit of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12055587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlight/pseuds/phlight
Summary: Daesung jumps in with Jiyong.





	Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> Just FYI, Daesung ruined my highly plausible and realistic fic by admitting he gave up swimming for pilates. ;) Dammit, Dae! Guess I should've waited to write this...but it's been way too long since I've actually finished something, so here it is. As a topri fan, I've been wanting to write gdae for awhile. The ships feel like natural complements I guess (in the crazy universe where topri is real, why not gdae?), and Daesung deserves more fic love overall. I've got another chapter in progress from his POV, but at my current writing rate I can't make any guesses on when I'll finish it.
> 
> Inspired by the vacation they took together in October 2016.

Daesung looked fantastic wet. Yet another cosmic joke, kinda like the one the universe liked to tell about Jiyong's persistent attraction to heterosexual men. Of course Seungri thought it was a real knee-slapper. Bigbang's resident expert at spinning negatives into positives said it was all a matter of perspective.  
  
"It's a  _talent_ , Jiyongie," he'd murmured, slicking his busy tongue up and over the tip of his hyung's cock, then cackling in satisfaction at the resultant eyeroll-moan combination. "Reverse gaydar. If you like him, he's straight."  
  
"I guess that explains why I hate you," Jiyong snapped, shutting Seungri up by stuffing his mouth.  
  
Okay, fine, maybe the Seunghyuns were the exceptions to Jiyong's rule; or at least his saving graces. None of them were in a position to let their gay out to seriously play, so over the long stretch of years they'd sought comfort and release from each other. The stakes were too high to justify cheaper, more anonymous thrills – though lately Jiyong found himself considering his options. Choi and Lee were both entertaining ill-timed girlfriend stretches, right as Jiyong's most recent relationship fizzled out into "just friends." That seemed to happen with every ex, even the "friends" bit only a temporary salve before she'd cut him off entirely.  
  
So what or who did Jiyong desire now? A trip overseas where no one knew his face? Someone who would be happy to call out a fake name at the end of the evening?  
  
_You_ are  _overseas,_ he reminded himself.  
  
But Jiyong knew this person too well; more than enough to know he wouldn't be the slightest bit interested in joining the Bigbang circlejerk. The leader grabbed his wine glass and drank, a preferable alternative to gnawing his lower lip off for the 80th time today. What else was he supposed to do when Daesung flashed that little grin back at him, the same one he'd been treating Jiyong to throughout their entire "honeymoon." Daesung's joke. Jiyong's fantasy, especially when he'd taken himself in hand that morning in the shower, a desperate attempt to rid himself of excess tension in these Seunghyunless times. Staying a few extra days in Hawaii with Daesung had sounded like a great idea, and it was, it truly had been the absolute best. Jiyong couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so at ease and happy just to see another person smile.  
  
The problem was that it was always like that when he was alone with Daesung.  
  
Another problem was that the reflection of pool lights rippling over Daesung's skin made him look like some aquatic god, and the way his shoulders and thighs flexed as he readied himself, _Jesus...!_ Jiyong shifted his own legs together before he crossed them, glad for the distraction of a text notification when it came.  
  
It was Soonho, asking if they needed anything and reminding him of an early morning appointment. Daesung stepped into the pool, disappearing with a polite splash. Jiyong's lust was replaced by pride – for about five seconds, until Daesung heaved himself back over the edge, sputtering as he got to his feet and swiped water from his face. And then he did that thing with his hair, tipping his neck back and running his fingers through the dark, silky strands.  
  
_God_ damn _it,_ Jiyong thought, the sobbing voice in his head somewhere between awestruck and self-pitying. No matter how much he told Satan that today was not the day, his heart and dick never listened. And in the case of Daesung, it had been over a decade of repression and redirection. Jiyong considered him one of his best friends, but he couldn't make the want disappear. It was a dull itch crawling between the shoulder blades, one he felt was hopelessly out of reach. Asking someone else to scratch it worked for awhile, but it was never in the exact spot he needed.  
  
Daesung grabbed his towel from the lounge chair next to Jiyong's, tilting his head to the side and hopping on one foot.  
  
"Nice moves." Jiyong drained his glass.  
  
"I really hate it when the water gets in my ears," Daesung said, looking sheepish.  
  
"No one likes that." Jiyong waited for him to finish drying his face before he spoke again. "I'm really proud of you, Daesungie."  
  
Daesung's eyes met his for a startled second before he huffed out a short laugh, then started in on his body with the towel. Jiyong rolled over on his stomach to grant himself a little dignity for a sincere discussion, since his nether regions insisted on vulgarity.  
  
"I'm serious. I bet your swim instructor would agree with me. Remember when you wouldn't even put your face in the water?"  
  
Or their first group outing to a hotel pool, when Seunghyun had aimed to dunk Seungri and knocked into Daesung standing right behind the maknae, who sidestepped at the last second. His panicked cries – no,  _screams_ – as he started to slip down the slope into the deep end had Youngbae leaping in for a swift rescue, though he was half-drowned himself by the time he managed to get his taller, heavier dongsaeng to the edge of the pool. Seunghyun nearly wept out his apology as Daesung coughed and trembled, assuring him that it was okay, _I'm fine_ , but the damper had been firmly set on the rest of the afternoon. Daesung still didn't like to be in deep water, but he'd decided after his shoot for the MADE tour trailer that enough was enough. Private lessons scheduled, fear...well, not necessarily conquered, but confronted. Controlled. He'd even joked that he bought his house specifically for the pool.  
  
Daesung's new sense of calculated adventure still took Jiyong by surprise, this vacation being no exception.  Every time Jiyong expected him to balk at a suggested activity, he'd set his jaw and nod instead. Then that smile would happen. He'd whooped the whole ride down the zip line, then laughed til he was breathless at Jiyong's panted stream of curses when they reached the valley bottom.  
  
Then he'd hugged him and asked if they could have another go.  
  
"Yeah, well, I'll let you know when I figure out how to keep the water out of my orifices." Daesung pursed his lips as he wrapped his towel around his hips. Jiyong's active imagination suggested that he could be naked under there.  
  
_You know where that happy trail leads, so don't pretend like you wouldn't follow it._  
  
"I think it just happens," Jiyong said, realising at the last second that Daesung's face was up there and he might be making things a little weird.  
  
"Yeah," Daesung said, eyes following Jiyong's nervous feet, crossed at the ankles and swinging back and forth above his butt. Then he stifled a yawn. "I'm gonna go shower and lay down for awhile, hyung. My jet lag is finally easing up, just in time for another flight."  
  
Jiyong groaned and let his face and legs collapse flat on his lounge, issuing his complaint into the plush terrycloth of his towel.  
  
"I don't want to go home." He turned his head to the side, in case Daesung failed to appreciate the accompanying pout.  
  
"Me either. Need anything before I go, hyung?"  
  
And there was that smile again.  
  
Jiyong's frustration rose like acid in his chest. He knew it was childish, but he wasn't lying even a little bit that he didn't want to leave. This place, this moment, this man. Ai would wind around his legs and welcome him back, but even the most contented kitty purrs couldn't make him feel the way he had the past few days. He would be alone again, and the effort and risk of reaching out would suck so much compared to Daesung's warmth and quiet amiability.  
  
_I'm tired,_  Jiyong thought bitterly. _It's hard and I'm tired of it being so hard._  
  
"I need you to come to my room and finish this bottle with me, Daesungie." He knew he was being manipulative; hell, the hint of whine in his voice was downright Seunghyunish. But maybe that's why he'd used it. He knew Daesung was susceptible.  
  
"Need me to," Daesung repeated, his eyes lighting with the glimmer of a tease. He might have a soft spot for big babies, but his bullshit detector was firmly intact.  
  
"Yeah."  _Keep it simple, stupid. And don't get any bright ideas._  "If your hyung finds out we didn't finish it, I'll never hear the end of it."  
  
"He wastes more than anyone," Daesung replied, but he was already retrieving the wine from the table between their chairs, reading the label once again. "This one is almost as old as he is. How does he find this stuff?"  
  
"Sommelier secrets."  
  
"Will you visit him when he moves to Argentina?"  
  
"Only if you come with me."  
  
"You'll have to teach me Spanish, then."  
  
Their banter trailed off as they entered the cool hallways of the building. Daesung shivered while he waited for Jiyong to open the door.  
  
"The AC keeps resetting itself no matter what I do. They have it up too high," Jiyong said, flicking an appreciative glance over Daesung's goosebumped arms, and at his nipples gone tight and dark. "But I thought you ran hot."  
  
"I'm no match for American excess."  
  
Jiyong snickered and chanced it then, a brush of his palm across Daesung's lower back as he passed through the doorway. His skin was warm, and so, so silky soft...but it was impossible to miss how hard he was underneath. Jiyong puffed his cheeks up with a fiercely held breath, eyes wide and yearning as he watched Daesung from behind. It had been bad enough when he'd worn that tight black rash guard on the beach. Why was he even allowed to have those shoulders?  
  
_All right, all right. Find some chill._  
  
“You've got plenty, you piece of shit,” he growled under his breath, stabbing at the buttons on the thermostat.  
  
"Is anyone else coming? Should I get out more glasses?" Daesung called from the kitchen.  
  
"Soonho said they were in bed already."  
  
Just a little white lie. And maybe not even a lie – they could very well be asleep. The truth: Jiyong wanted Daesung to himself for just awhile longer. Then they'd go home and Jiyong wouldn't see him in person until the next group event, where Seunghyun would commandeer most of his attention as usual.  
  
Daesung was tipping the last of the bottle into two glasses when Jiyong approached the kitchen counter, rubbing his arms against the chill.  
  
"I think I'm gonna change into something more comfortable," he said, the tip of his tongue sneaking out to touch the center of his upper lip. He couldn't quite hold back an embarrassed grin at his own terrible line. "You want a robe or something?"  
  
As much as he hated to see Daesung cover up all that magnificence, it was only hospitable to offer. Daesung smirked and nodded.  
  
Seungri would be barging into the bedroom behind him in 3...2...1. Never able to wait. Seunghyun would go along with the pretense and take the wine seriously, at least until he was seriously sloshed.  
  
What was Daesung doing?  
  
_Being cold and waiting on your crazy, perverted ass, probably._  Jiyong frowned at his suitcase. He ended up pulling an oversized V-neck shirt over his head and replacing his damp swim shorts with baggy cotton sleep pants. _Not really sexy. At all. So there, I'm being good._  
  
Still, he checked his hair in the bathroom and applied a little lip balm before grabbing the plush hotel robe and heading back out to the living room. Daesung was on the couch, leafing through the newspaper Jiyong had tossed aside earlier that morning.  
  
"Didn't you already read it?" Jiyong asked, trading the robe for his wine glass, then settling in across the couch. He tucked his feet under his thighs as he watched Daesung belt himself in and sit back down.  
  
"I'm still a little slow with English," Daesung said, setting the paper down and yawning again. Then he surprised Jiyong with a sharp, direct look. "Why are you all the way over there?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Daesung started to speak, then pressed his lips back together. And he was still  _looking_.  
  
"What?" Jiyong demanded, wiggling in place when the seconds began to feel like hours. He raised his wine glass up in front of his face.  
  
"I can still see you, hyung," Daesung said airily, picking up his own glass.  
  
Jiyong's defensive chagrin changed to true bashfulness as the rare awkward silence stretched between them. He could barely get the question past his lips.  
  
"C'mon, Daesungie. Everything okay?"  
  
Daesung shrugged and sipped before he replied.  
  
"That's what I want to know. When you're happy, you're very affectionate. I thought you were happy, anyway. But then I mention going to bed and you got all–"  
  
"I _am_ happy," Jiyong insisted. He set his drink aside and scooted over a few cushions, the pit of his stomach roiling with a tense internal debate. Finally he just went for it, hoping that an over-the-top display would hide any embarrassing truths; it seemed to work for Seungri most of the time. He flopped down with a dramatic sigh, resting his head in Daesung's lap before chancing a glance up at his face. "I'm sorry for complaining at you before. I'm really glad you could find the time to stay."  
  
"Aish, hyung. You know it's the other way around."  
  
Jiyong didn't account for how hard it would be to maintain eye contact, especially when Daesung started to pet his hair with a rather solemn expression. He squeezed his eyes shut on a mental image of himself melting and oozing over the edge of the couch, ending up on the floor in a puddle of glittery rainbow goo.  
  
He grabbed Daesung's hands and used them to cover his own face.  
  
"Are you okay, hyung?"    
  
"Yes." Jiyong blushed behind the finely formed fingers, absurd laughter overtaking him before he could stop it. Were they just gonna sit here and ask each other that question all night? "I'm just, uhh. Happy. I'm happier with you than I should be. I'm sorry."  
  
A few seconds ticked by, eons Jiyong spent wishing he'd learn to shut up for fucking once. Really, he had no business calling Seungri out for blabbing when he was clearly the one with an incurable case of cheap mouth.  
  
"Don't be sorry," Daesung said, attempting to lift his hands from Jiyong's face. He let out a contemplative hum when Jiyong tightened his grip. "I'd rather you be happy than sorry. Maybe if we talked about it you'd–"  
  
"What, feel better?" Jiyong's laugh sounded strange to his own ears as he dealt with a slow dawn of surprise breaking over him yet again. Jiyong knew he could trust Daesung, could rely on him for just about anything, but he'd never dreamed of a discussion on _feelings_. Daesung could be frank in his honesty, and even more intimidating when it came to his privacy. Everyone thought Seunghyun was mysterious, but Daesung was the one who made Jiyong wonder.  
  
"No." A pause, a soft breath in and out. "Hyung. You know I'm not like you."  
  
"I know." _I know._ Jiyong relaxed his death grip on Daesung's hands, figuring that if Daesung was trying to clear the air he should at least make some effort at being a Motherfucking Adult. He peeked through his dongsaeng's fingers, holding his breath when their eyes met again.  
  
"But I do think you're really pretty." Daesung lifted one hand just high enough to brush the back of it along Jiyong's cheekbone. He raised his eyebrows in response to Jiyong's astonished stare.  
  
Being an adult was almost as hard as being alone. Jiyong's hands flew to his face as he cracked up completely, dragging Daesung down to his level seconds later.  
  
"Daesungie, that's kind of gay," Jiyong said, when they had calmed down enough to manage speech again. He wiped away a couple stray tears.  
  
"But you are!" Daesung insisted. And they were off again. Jiyong's cheeks were starting to hurt.  
  
_Ah, we better stop..._  
  
"Seungri is pretty, too." A few last giggles escaped them as Daesung's legs shifted under Jiyong's head. The younger man cleared his throat as his smile finally softened into something less hysterical.  If Jiyong hadn’t been fully aware of his own delusions, he would swear it was almost wistful.  
  
"Not like you."  
  
_Hm._ That sounded dangerously close to the opening of a particular cautionary tale Jiyong had heard before, the one about the straight guy who would play games with your head but no way,  not the other head, never _that_ one. But this was  _Daesung_ , not some idiot kid fumbling his way through hormones and hellfire. Jiyong might deny his own feelings, but he couldn't ignore the look on Daesung's face. He was reaching out, trying to bridge a gap between them that maybe wasn't as wide as either of them assumed. Jiyong felt suddenly tender, and presumptuous for thinking Seunghyun had thoroughly tromped over this territory years ago.  
  
"Daesungie,” Jiyong began, his voice only a little shaky despite the ludicrous thumping behind his sternum. “Have you ever–"  
  
"Not really," Daesung said, his eyes going dull as he looked away for the first time. Jiyong felt a true pang of regret now, wished he could take back all his bratty teasing and just make it easy between them again.  
  
"It's okay, Daesungie. For real. How long have we known each other? It's cool, man." Jiyong started to sit up, thinking he'd emphasise his words with a reassuring brotherly pat on the back or something.  
  
Daesung pushed him back down by the shoulders, rushing Jiyong's resigned plans for a cold shower right out of his mind, along with the breath from his lungs. When he seemed certain that Jiyong wouldn't move, Daesung slid his palms up and along the sides of his neck to cup his face, making Jiyong gasp at the hot flare of sensation he felt from every meeting point of their skin. He guessed he must be doing a great tomato impression. His friend gave Jiyong's cheeks a soft squeeze before reaching lower to take one of Jiyong's hands between his own.  
  
Then, practical, straightforward, matter-of-fact Kang Daesung: "I have thought about this a lot, hyung. If you want to touch me, you can."  
  
Daesung guided Jiyong's hand inside the loose V of his robe, gentle but deliberate. It was like a furnace in there, the skin on his chest smooth and dry as he stroked Jiyong's fingers up, down, and up again. Jiyong's mind was a mess of garbled static, his body breaking out into a comprehensive, elated sweat.  
  
"Your fingers are freezing." Daesung didn't look like he really minded, but Jiyong's wrecked brain defaulted back to his refrain of the evening, his voice cracked and stunned.  
  
"I'm...sorry?"    
  
Daesung blinked slowly and pressed his lips together, in that sassy, petulant way that Jiyong found so adorable – and in this context, intensely exciting.  
  
"Don't be sorry, I said. You should warm them up."  
  
Jiyong's fingers twitched. He knew where his hand was. If Daesung was a woman, he'd be cupping the underside of a breast. It was one of his favourite erogenous zones, underrated and no less enticing to him on a man.  
  
Still, Jiyong's iridescent bubble of homoerotic joy wobbled and wavered. Had Daesung really thought this through? What if he regretted it, what if he was only doing it out of pity?  
  
_What if he hates me tomorrow?_  
  
"Is this a one time only hand-warming offer or...?"  
  
"Do you want to or not?" Daesung sounded calm, though Jiyong knew he was good at hiding nerves when he needed to, especially when they were on stage. Maybe this was a kind of performance for him, carefully considered and practiced. But.  
  
Jiyong thought of the wind whipping through Daesung's hair on the beach as he watched Jiyong run from the waves like a kid, and of his loud, open-mouthed laugh at Jiyong's failed handstand that left him with a face full of sand. He thought of good wine and warm nights, and the comfort of being with someone who made him feel at home, even when they were thousands of miles away. He thought of strong arms embracing him at the bottom of the valley and  _let's go again, hyung, do you want to?_  
  
"I'm...I want to. Holy shit," Jiyong murmured. Daesung let him sit up this time. He traced the bottom edge of Daesung's left pectoral muscle with one tentative, slightly-less-cold-than-it-used-to-be finger. "You really want me to?"  
  
Daesung nodded, then narrowed his eyes into thin, glittering slits. Jiyong froze as every submissive tendency inside him let out a high-pitched squeal of glee.  
  
"I have one condition."  
  
Jiyong nodded, not even caring if he looked a little frantic at this point.  
  
"Do NOT tell Seungri."  
  
"I would rather die," Jiyong croaked, thinking he'd agree to almost anything Daesung asked, make it any way Daesung needed or wanted it to be. And if this was the only time he was going to feel every single centimetre of that amazing skin – god, was it only with the hands? Would he let him–  
  
Jiyong darted forward, planting a quick peck on the hollow of Daesung's throat, something he'd always wanted to do. When Daesung wet his lips in reply, Jiyong uttered a quiet curse. He tugged the robe off Daesung's shoulders with his jittery hands. For a moment he just took him in, considering. Youngbae could recite the names of these muscles like old friends. Trapezius. Deltoid. Bicep.  
  
Jiyong ran his hands over each, trying to convey his admiration of Daesung's beauty through his sweating palms. He lingered when he reached pectorals, thinking inevitably of Seungri again. He liked for Jiyong to tease him with pinches just shy of painful, but Jiyong couldn't bring himself to treat Daesung with anything but hushed reverence. Jiyong's fingers spread across the broad planes of muscle before he drew them inward and down, the pads of his thumbs just brushing over the light, soft areolas. He snuck a glance up at Daesung, wondering if he'd liked it, if he wanted him to stay or move on.  
  
Daesung's eyes watched Jiyong's hands with small, precise movements, until the pause made him look up.  
  
"They're still cold, Jiyong."  
  
Jiyong huffed out a tiny laugh as he bit down on his lip.  _Okay, Daesungie, I get it_.

He firmed his touch as he passed over the gentle rise of ribs and each perfect ridge and valley of Daesung's abdominals. The inviting cup of his navel made Jiyong's heart race, the dark wisp of hair there growing lighter as it lead to a place Jiyong knew it would grow thicker again, robust even. He'd seen it before, in the occasional group shower and once when he'd yanked the covers off and discovered Daesung's preference to sleep nude. It'd given both of them a shock. Now Jiyong wondered if he'd been the only one to suffer from a solid month's worth of intrusive, libidinous flashbacks.  
  
_Ask him later. Focus._  
  
Jiyong's eyes drifted lower, dying to go there, but he didn't dare yet.  
  
"Will you stand up for me?"  
  
Daesung rose, smooth and effortlessly graceful as he let the robe fall to the couch cushions behind him. Jiyong slid out of his seat, somewhat like his fantasy from before, but with more clumsiness and less glitter. He ended up on his hands and knees, drawing in a couple of deep breaths before he clasped one of Daesung's ankles. He ran his fingers up through the soft hair on his shins as his hand traveled toward Daesung's knee.  
  
Jiyong smirked when he saw Daesung's toes clench and heard the little gasps breaking through his strong and silent facade.  
  
"I'm really ticklish," Daesung said.  
  
"I know." Jiyong glanced up with a naughty expression he rarely used on Daesung. Daesung's eyes rolled with amusement as Jiyong's fingers resumed their explorations.  
  
"You don't have to be so careful, you know.”  
  
"I feel like you'll run away," Jiyong admitted. Shy like a spooked deer stumbled upon in a clearing, heartbreakingly beautiful and then gone, like it was never really there at all.  
  
Daesung took a step closer, the solid muscle of his thigh nearly bumping Jiyong in the nose. Well, he was definitely here.  
  
Jiyong clasped a leg in each hand, squeezing and allowing himself a sigh of open enjoyment. He slid his hands around to the back of Daesung's knees, knowing from his toes that Daesung was resisting the tickle again.  
  
"So soft, Daesungie," whispered Jiyong as he moved back to the fronts of the slightly bowed legs, an area of insecurity for Daesung. But he made it work, just like every other "flaw;" Jiyong knew none of them could achieve quite the same fluid swivel of hips as Daesung. He swallowed as he moved up, the barrier of Daesung's shorts halfway up his thighs a question Jiyong asked with his eyebrows, his fingertips teasing just along the hems.  
  
Jiyong held his breath when he got the nod, and went under.  
  
"Not cold anymore," Daesung joked, his husky attempt at levity cut off by a sharp breath in when Jiyong's hands copped an abrupt feel just under his buttocks.  
  
Jiyong tried to regain control over his own breathing as his fingers inched up, lest he add "hyperventilating" to the list of words he could use to describe himself, including perspiring (heavily), shaking (like a leaf), freaking (out), and erect (painfully).  
  
"You're so hot," Jiyong sighed, pressing his forehead against the fabric of the shorts. He could smell chlorine, of course, and a faint whiff of detergent, but there was also a subtler, earthier undertone that reminded Jiyong of...well, himself, and the other men he'd been with. A decidedly male smell, but distinct, unique. Daesung.  
  
_Fuck._ It made Jiyong's mouth water, made his lips part on their own volition. Daesung hadn't said anything about  _that_ , though, so he swallowed and sat back, clutching at the tight ass under his hands.  He looked up at the other man through his eyelashes, knowing it made him seem cute – maybe even pretty.  
  
Jiyong moaned when Daesung rocked his hips forward, possibly an unbidden response to Jiyong's touch ( _God_ , the superheated rush Jiyong got just from considering the possibility) or, less exciting, instinctively moving away from the scrape of Jiyong's bitten nails. Either way, Jiyong thought he'd go crazy if Daesung did it again. He kept his hands centered on the perfect, compact muscles, feeling them flex and tense as he leaned in. His curled tongue dragged a wet track through the fine hairs on Daesung's lower stomach, as fevered imaginings of all the other ways and places he could use it raced through his mind.  
  
Daesung had held out against the sensation as long as he could. His shuddering exhale began with laughter when Jiyong's tongue flicked over the rim of his navel, and ended on a choked little moan when Jiyong thrust the tip inside. The unmistakable sound of pleasure made Jiyong's dick jump through several degrees of rise, made his balls pull high and tight.  
  
He couldn't stand it anymore. Jiyong lurched to his feet, swaying until Daesung pulled him in by the shoulders, held him close. Jiyong realised he wasn't the only one shaking. He nuzzled his face into Daesung's neck, panting and on the verge. Of what? Laughter, tears?  
  
Those, yes, but even more–  
  
"Daesung, I need to," Jiyong whispered. Daesung hummed, hugged him tighter. Jiyong felt his heartbeat slow as he relaxed into the hold, his eyes closing as he found solace in the midst of desperation.  
   
"Need to," Daesung repeated, and Jiyong moaned when the hands at his back moved lower.  
  
Jiyong's hands slipped inside the front of his own pants, finding himself taut and hot. He timed his own familiar movements to match the slow, knowing circles Daesung stroked into the small of his back.  
  
Jiyong wished they could be outside, _just the two of them, the tropical breeze, the night sounds. Jiyong watches him swim until Daesung reaches over the edge and pulls him under. Jiyong doesn't care that the water is cold, because Daesung is so perfect and warm. Jiyong touches and touches and touches and doesn't care that he's drowning._  
  
Jiyong's shirt slipped off one shoulder as his movements grew more erratic, the air in the room chilling him where the sweat trickled down his neck and over his chest. He pressed his open lips to the side of Daesung's neck, murmuring out prurient half syllables as he felt the pressure build, until he was nearly at the point of no return. Daesung chose that exact moment to push him back a bit, his eyes affectionate but focused as he took Jiyong in,  _all_ of him. He smiled when their eyes met again.  
  
"You look so pretty, Jiyong," he said, tracing one finger along his exposed collarbone.  
  
And that was it.  
  
"Daesung," Jiyong gasped, the first pulse of release so agonisingly intense that he fell forward again, breathing Daesung in and crying him out through each rise and fall of his orgasm.  
  
The pleasure, as sublime as it was, could only connect them for a matter of seconds. Reality cut into fantasy as the muted mechanics of the air conditioner kicked on. Daesung moved away. Too soon.  
  
_Shit. Shit. Shit._  
  
Jiyong squeezed his eyes shut tighter as he curled in on himself, hating the sharp bite of cold air on his damp skin, hating even more the doubt curdling bliss into shame. He waited to hear mumbling excuses, escaping footsteps, a closing door.  
  
There was a soft swishing sound.  
  
"Hyung?" Folded tissues pressed into his hand, fingers brushed along his wrist and forearm, and still Jiyong didn't want to – no, _couldn't_ – face him. He started to clean himself by feel. "Mind if I shower here?"  
  
Jiyong's eyes popped open, relief hitting him in a soft punch to the gut when he saw the way Daesung was looking at him.  
  
"All the chlorine. Bad for your hair, you know?" He blew a short puff of air upwards into his long bangs.  
  
"You want to shower here?" Jiyong blinked, a swell of emotion raising his voice along with it.  
  
"Well, in the bathroom would probably make more sense."  
  
"Haaa." Jiyong shoved him, only lightly. Daesung's low laughter and steady gaze both held a certain quality that had Jiyong flicking his eyes down for a quick evaluation. _Did he?_ What he saw gave him a twinge of guilt, swiftly overrun by a hopeful thrill. He met Daesung's eye and adopted the same no-nonsense tone he'd used on Jiyong earlier. "Okay. But after that, you're staying the night."  
  
"Need me to?" Daesung started to shove back, then seemed to think better of it. He opened his arms. Jiyong nearly swooned into them, pressing his nose into Daesung's cheek as he replied.  
  
"Want you to."  
  
Jiyong knew the morning would bring questions, demand answers of them they might never have. But for now, at least, he felt able to return Daesung's smile.


End file.
